


This Moment

by LadyVegeets



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Bandaging wounds, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Three Year Gap, Valentine's Day, Vegebul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets
Summary: Roses are red, Vegeta be scowlin’, can’t admit to Bulma, he loves her 9000
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, VegeBul - Relationship
Comments: 13
Kudos: 117





	This Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rutbisbe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutbisbe/gifts).



Vegeta sat on the gurney in Bulma’s lab; this was becoming a familiar routine. Between the lack of a healing chamber and Vegeta’s propensity to push himself to injury in the GR, the need for more rudimentary hands-on medical treatment was often necessary. Or so Bulma claimed, and Vegeta had long since stopped arguing the point. He was getting better at picking and choosing his battles with the headstrong woman.

The late afternoon sunlight was streaming through the lab’s west-facing window, softening the harsh overhead lights into something warmer and caught at Bulma’s soft blue curls causing an almost halo-like effect about her. She stood in front of him, between his muscular knees, seemingly unable to decide on smug pride or wincing sympathy; her latest update to the training bots had been quite the success, as evidenced by the myriad of bloody wounds he now wore. At her insistence he had stripped down to his training shorts and Capsule Corp sneakers (specially designed for his workouts), so she could better inspect and disinfect his less severe grazes and bandage up the worse ones.

Her hands were gentle and methodical, touching him without fear of what he could do to her, what his violent strength could wrought on her world, what it had already done to others. Even to her friends. It was always a wonder that she didn’t recoil from him.

She prattled on about the bots as she worked, binding the gaping laser wound on his left bicep. He only half listened to what she said; she often lost him with her technical jargon, and he wasn’t even sure she was speaking _to_ him rather than _at_ him as a means of working through her theories out loud. A habit he had found most irritating at first, but now it was comforting white noise to fill the air between them as she played both nurse and inventor to his ever increasingly challenging GR sessions. He wondered if she even saw the irony in that, in being both his advocate for his health and wellbeing while at the same time scheming up more and more brutal ways to push him to his limits. It was a strange dichotomy he had come to appreciate about her. The thought alone had the corner of his lips curling up into a wry smile.

There was a pause in her rambling. He looked up and caught her looking back, her piercing blue eyes twinkling with some unknown amusement. Her pink lips curved in a smile as warm as the setting sun. His thumping heartbeat and the little dust motes that drifted in the golden light between them were the only things that counted the passage of time. He had to fight off the sudden irrational urge to trap her in with his knees.

“Hand,” she said, almost whispered, as if afraid to break this strange peaceful spell.

He swallowed and gave her his left, the palm lasered completely through by one of her bots. For a moment Bulma did nothing but hold his ruined hand in both of hers, her small pale thumbs brushing over his fingers. Vegeta let her, finding the touch oddly...nice.

“What do you think?” she asked without looking up. They were both transfixed on the slow caress of her fingers.

“About?”

“The bots.”

Ah. She was giving him an out. Tch, she should have known better by now. “Do whatever you need to increase their power.”

She sighed, but when she spoke her tone was amused. “You could barely handle them as they are.”

He glanced over to the lab bench where the remnants of the bots lay, the pieces warped and scorched black from his ki attacks. He sat up a little straighter, puffing his chest as he indicated the remains of his victory. “How long will all _that_ take to fix? Because _I_ will be at full strength in a matter of days.”

She rolled her eyes but ruined the effect by laughing, shaking her head, and started treating his palm. “I’d be more impressed if you blew them up _without_ getting hit in the process.”

He liked this laugh, this smile she had when they were together. There was nothing mocking about it. It came from a place of genuine ease, and set a fire in his chest, greedy for more. He leaned in with a predatory smirk. “But you _are_ impressed.”

She glanced at him. They were practically nose to nose. Too late he realized how dangerously close they were, able to see the lighter flecks of cyan in her irises, but he dared not retreat now. She weighed him with those cutting blue eyes. What did she see? For the first time in a long while (perhaps ever) Vegeta _wanted_ to know what someone else -- what _she_ \-- thought of him.

Bulma gave him a strange, almost rueful smile. “Do you think I’d do all this if I wasn’t?”

His heart pounded so hard in his chest he worried even her human ears would hear it and call him out. He wasn’t sure what exactly she meant by ‘this’: tending his wounds? Spending so much of her time, effort, and resources to help him with his training? Giving him a home? Not pulling away? He supposed it didn’t really matter; she had as good as admitted he impressed her, and he didn’t have the slightest fucking idea what to do with that confession.

He fell silent, warring with this revelation. This seemed to suit Bulma just fine as she continued tending to his hand, a private smile ghosting her lips. The silence stretched between them, for once unfilled by Bulma’s lectures or technical jargon. He almost wished she would speak to distract him. He could _feel_ her when they were this close, her ki. It entangled with his own aura, sending tiny but thrilling shock waves dancing across his skin. It was getting harder and harder each day to resist breaching that gap. His knee yearned to lean that inch inward to press against her hip. Would she notice if he did? Would she mind?

The sun was burning a fierce orange on the horizon, the glow in the room thick as honey. Bulma’s peach dress nearly blended in, as if she had stolen the outfit from the sun itself. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had. If anyone could do it, it was her. His fingers twitched as she bandaged his palm, guiltily letting his fingertips graze the porcelain underside of her forearm, as if he could muster the nerve to grasp her arm and hold onto this moment.

“There,” Bulma announced, securing the bandage and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. Resignation washed over him, and he prepared himself for her to pull back. Instead, she raised his hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckles. Her lips were the softest things he had ever felt. The stunned alarm must have been plain on his face. She let his hand go. “It’s okay, Vegeta. Take all the time you need.” She cupped his cheek with her hand for just a moment, giving him a sympathetic smile before slipping away.

He sat glued on the gurney, reeling, devastated. What... _What_?

Bulma made a show of stretching and started saying something about fixing the bots. She was trying to slip back into their ‘normal’, smooth over that awkward blip as if it had never happened. If he did nothing, the moment would be lost forever.

He got off the gurney and took the three and half strides to where she was. Something in his eyes must have given him away, as she fell silent mid-sentence. He reached for her but hesitated, watching for her reaction. She didn’t flinch away. He allowed himself to touch a wisp of her hair. It was gorgeously soft, though the curl refused to be tamed between his fingers, much like the woman herself. He liked that about her. Liked a lot of things about her. Pushing his fingers into her curls, he pulled her in. Their auras met and sparked before gradually melting together.

She was slightly off balance, leaning on her tiptoes, a hand resting on his waist. The touch of her palm on his skin _burned_. He drew her in closer still. For the second time he found himself nose to nose with her. She didn’t pull back, watching him with dilated pupils, her cherry lips parted with quickened breath. His blood soared through his veins and he nudged his nose to her cheek, brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth.

“You impress me too,” he confided.

The way she smiled against his cheek felt like his biggest victory yet.

~

* * *

**AN: Oh hey, look, I** **_can_ ** **still write.**

**Inspired by Rut Bisbe’s 2021 valentine drawing ❤️**

<https://twitter.com/rutisfree/status/1361088569784336387>


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